


someday my pain will mark you

by starsandstark



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Coping, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Marriage, Mpreg, Recovery, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandstark/pseuds/starsandstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jefferson meets Killian at the laundromat on a Tuesday night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be posted in November of 2014, but I was in a dark place then and couldn't finish it. I finally worked up the gumption to finish it this week. Unbeta'd, so any/all mistakes are my own. Title taken from Bon Iver's "The Wolves (Act I and II)."

Jefferson meets Killian at the laundromat on a Tuesday night.

"Excuse me," Killian murmurs, and Jefferson is slightly taken aback when he looks up and a pair of piercing blue eyes rise to meet his own. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra dollar seventy-five, would you?"

Jefferson fights back an eye roll, but in all honesty, Killian is breathtakingly gorgeous. He checks his pockets—mostly for show—before he pulls out seven quarters, extending his hand coyly as he watches the mysterious man with dark features. Killian moves with remarkable poise as his leather boots creak and whine with each step.

They're two feet apart when Killian extends his cupped hand. Jefferson transfers the change and an obnoxious compliment about Jefferson's soft hands makes him scowl in disgust.

"Thank you," Killian then says. Jefferson's eyes fall to the floor immediately. "Killian Jones," he states with a gesture that can only be described as a bow.

Jefferson wants to be left alone, but he manages to murmur his name in reply and Killian leaves him to fold his undershirts as he returns to the other side of the room.

***

Jefferson is in his own world, absorbed by his own thoughts as he methodically folds his laundry into department store stacks. It isn't until he hears the clinking of change dropping into the drink machine that he glances up to see Killian Jones feeding a dollar bill into the machine. Jefferson completes not saying anything but he really shouldn't let Killian get away with those shenanigans after bumming for change.

"Looks like you found the rest of your change," Jefferson remarks softly.

Killian doesn't miss a beat as he smirks at Jefferson over his shoulder. "Seems I have," he shrugs.

"You know, that was my last dollar seventy-five. I had another load to do."

Killian takes his Coke as it dispenses, pops the tab and spins around to lean against the vending machine. "Was it? Oh, I apologize. Would you like some?" he asks, gesturing to the red can.

Jefferson can't help but chuckle, smiling just slightly and shaking his head. "No, thank you."

"Well, you've got to allow me to make it up to you. How about I buy you a drink?"

Jefferson stops to think Killian is wonderfully charming (even if he did cheat him out of his last $1.75).

"It'll have to be real drink. Nothing out of a can," Jefferson insists. That statement alone should scare Killian away. Or, at least that's what Jefferson thinks. It shows Jefferson's high level of maintenance, but Killian never backs down from a challenge.

"Alight," Killian nods. "I'm assuming that you're local seeing as there's not another town in a forty mile radius. I'll meet you at the bar on Sixth Street."

Jefferson shakes his head. "The cafe on Broadway tomorrow evening? Eight o'clock?"

Killian doesn't show his disappointment as he purses his lips. He isn't really the cafe date type—or even the date type, obviously—but Jefferson is exceptionally beautiful and he would like to get to know him.

"The cafe. Tomorrow. Eight o'clock," Killian confirms.

Jefferson bites the inside of his cheek as he nods. Upon moving here he;s promised himself no dating in this town. He can't do this to himself again. He can't fall completely in love with someone only to believe everything is fine, and then wake up to an empty house with not so much as a note. But maybe Killian Jones will be different.

***

Jefferson expects Killian to be late but when he walks into the cafe at five till eight, Killian can be seen at the table in the corner. It's actually Jefferson's favorite table in the whole place because the corner is constructed out of two large windows with soft lights draped above them.

Killian is full of surprises, actually, and is dressed in a conservative black jacket when he stands to greet his date. Jefferson is thankful for the dim lighting because he may or may not be blushing.

"Jefferson," Killian smiles, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

A soft 'hi' is all Jefferson can manage because Killian Jones is definitely not what he expected.

They go to order their drinks—for Killian a black coffee and for Jefferson chai tea with milk and sugar—and return to sit at their cozy table. Killian insists on paying and Jefferson doesn't argue.

"So," Jefferson starts. "You've been here in town long?"

"Not too long, no. I'm looking for work at the moment."

"Have you found anything? What do you do?"

"I haven't. But I do anything," Killian shrugs. "And what about you? What do you do?"

"I work at the alterations shop."

"You sew?"

Jefferson nods a little. "My mom taught me. I saw a sign in the window right after I moved here. I've been here eight months now."

Their drinks come and the conversation dies down to a soft session of questions and answers, and Jefferson is relieved by Killian's ability to keep their topics light. Before they know it, it's ten o'clock and the cafe is closing. They make plans for a second date next Wednesday, and Jefferson can't wait.

***

Their first kiss happens without much preparation. Killian is walking Jefferson to his car after the second date. They're in the middle of the empty sidewalk when Killian spins Jefferson around by the wrist and presses their lips together. It's neither a rough kiss nor a soft one, but firm and confident and Jefferson makes a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat.

Killian doesn't pull back until he's completely satisfied and Jefferson looks away. He thinks it's too soon for a first kiss. But it feels good and feels right and he wants more. And he takes it. He grabs the back of Killian's neck and kisses him fiercely, pouring every negative thought and emotion into the kiss. He feels Killian's hands on his hips, fingers digging in and grabbing desperately at his silk shirt.

They're both breathing raggedly when the kiss breaks and Jefferson is ashamed of himself as he slips into the car. He doesn't tell Killian goodbye because he can't let himself get so wrapped up in someone else again.

***

They haven't talked in almost a week and Jefferson is in the back of the shop on a Tuesday when he hears the bell on the door jingle. He pushes through the black velvet curtains to step at the front desk, only to find Killian Jones standing there with a single rose.

Jefferson leans across the counter. "What are you doing here?"

Killian approaches him and shrugs, setting the rose on the glass counter.

"I miss your beautiful face," he says somewhat seriously, but there's a playful undertone to his voice. "Where have you been?"

"I've been busy," Jefferson says, looking away.

"Have you?"

He nods and his fingers tap on the glass, unsure. Jefferson promises himself that he won't do this. That he won't get so wrapped up in a relationship like this again. Killian is great and everything, but maybe he's not what Jefferson needs right now. He definitely doesn't need the heartbreak that comes along with trusting people.

"I'm sorry if I came off as—"

"No," Jefferson breaks in softly. He doesn't exactly want Killian to think they can't see each other. Maybe they can't be serious; Jefferson isn't ready for that again. And he gets the impression that Killian wouldn't be great at a serious relationship, anyway. But maybe they can go on cute coffee dates and kiss because Killian is actually a fantastic kisser.

"I'm sorry," Jefferson continues. "Work's just been crazy these past few days.

Killian nods, not entirely believing the man with the tape measure hanging around his neck. "So you'll be around then?"

"Yes," Jefferson nods, averting his eyes.

"So you wouldn't decline an offer to dinner?"

Jefferson raises his head and shakes it. He isn't really sure why he says this when he says it: "No. I'll even cook for you."

"You can cook?"

Jefferson shrugs a little. "Sure, I can cook. How about tomorrow night?" he asks, scribbling his address on a piece of scrap paper and pushing it into Killian's hand.

Killian smiles and gives Jefferson a nod, turning and walking out the shop door.

Jefferson frets for a while about what to cook for dinner. He waits so long that when he does decide what to cook the grocery store is closed. So he sips his cup of bedtime tea as he makes his list of ingredients for lasagna and a tossed salad.

***

The dinner date goes surprisingly well. Jefferson greets Killian at the door wearing a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt under a cozy sweater, and he doesn't bother with shoes as thick socks cover his feet. Killian makes himself at home, kicking his shoes off as well before he joins Jefferson in the kitchen.

"What're you making?"

"Lasagna and a salad," Jefferson replies as he bends over to pull the lasagna from the oven. Killian's eyes are instantly on Jefferson's ass and Jefferson can practically feel them burning into him.

Jefferson tries his best not to smirk and fixes their plates, leading Killian over to the small breakfast table to sit. "Have you found a job yet?"

"Still looking," Killian replies and takes his salad, stabbing a fork into it. "I'm sure I'll find something."

"What kind of work are you looking for?"

"Something on a boat," he shrugs.

"Have you checked down at the harbor?" Jefferson asks, twirling his fork absently.

"No, I haven't." He makes note to do so.

***

Jefferson promises himself that this won't happen. He swears that he won't allow Killian Jones to take advantage of him. But the date ends with Jefferson on his back and Killian hovering over him. They're both sweaty and panting and Jefferson swallows hard as Killian pulls out. He rolls to the side and reaches for the pack of cigarettes and lighter that he doesn't often reach for. His hands are shaking as he lights it and takes a few deep drags.

Killian looks utterly satisfied and accomplished as he sits up. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Jefferson lies lightly but his unstable breathing gives him away. Killian knows that this action has comforted his lovers in the past so he scoots behind Jefferson and presses slow, sensual kisses to the crook of Jefferson's neck. The kisses only make Jefferson want more. He wants to pull Killian as close as he can get and fuck him until the sun comes up.

"Have I done something wrong?" Killian murmurs against the shell of his ear.

Jefferson wants to answer 'I have' but instead he snuffs the cigarette out and pulls Killian in for a vicious kiss.

***

Jefferson isn't surprised to find Killian asleep in his bed when he wakes. He looks sort of adorable, Jefferson thinks, with his flair fluffed in every direction against the white pillows. Jefferson has a while before work so he gets up to make them omelets and coffee.

It's almost an hour later when Killian greets Jefferson with a hug from behind and a kiss on the ear. "Morning."

"Hi." Jefferson bites back a smile. "There's coffee. I made you an omelet."

"Omelet?" Killian replies curiously. "What's an omelet?"

"You've never had an omelet before?" Jefferson asks incredulously as he fixes his guest a plate and a cup of black coffee. When he slides them onto the table, Killian decides that he could definitely get accustomed to this routine.


	2. Chapter 2

They're at the point where they go to the laundry mat together. Sometimes they'll leave and go grab a bite at the diner and sometimes they'll sit in the corner and steal kisses when no one is looking. They've been seeing each other for almost two months now. Jefferson isn't really sure if they quality as being boyfriends. They go out to eat and Killian sleeps over at Jefferson's apartment. Jefferson doesn't exactly know why they're always at Jefferson's apartment, but Jefferson is okay with it because he likes waking up to someone in bed with him.

The leaves are changing now and it's getting cooler outside. One evening Jefferson decides that he and Killian should go to the Miner's Day festival. Killian is a bit apprehensive but then Jefferson makes doe eyes and then Killian says yes. They plan to go Saturday morning so Killian stays over on the Friday night before.

***

Jefferson instantly stirs as a pair of lips drag slow, teasing kisses down his lower back and stop at the waistband of his pajama pants. He bites his lip to keep from moaning and acts as if he's still sound asleep.

Killian grumbles and hooks a finger in the elastic waist of Jefferson's sleep pants and pulls down slightly, dipping his tongue into the perfect crevice between Jefferson's ass.

"Oh," Jefferson groans into the pillow. And he's angry that he can't hold back for any longer than that because Killian stops to crawl up to the head of the bed.

"Oh. You're up. Good," Killian grins. "I would like breakfast before we get started to the festival."

Jefferson looks over his shoulder to glare at his lover, clearly not amused but doing his best not to grab Killian's face and pull him down for a kiss. "There's cereal in the kitchen," he replies flatly.

"But I don't want cereal. I want one of those omelet things you make."

"I'm not cooking on a Saturday," Jefferson whines.

"I'll make you a deal," Killian murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jefferson's shoulder blade. "You make me breakfast and I'll finish what I started."

"Deal," Jefferson answers quickly, drawing a chuckle out of his lover. "You first," he says, lifting up the blanket. Killian disappears beneath it, littering a trail of kisses down Jefferson's spine once more.

***

"I've found a job," Killian says.

Jefferson's eyes flicker up from the dress he's altering. "Oh? Where at?"

"Fishing boat. I'll be off shore Monday through Friday."

"Good. I'll finally be able to go to work in peace and not worry about you showing up to distract me." Jefferson says it with a straight face although he loves the days Killian spends with him in the shop. Those are his favorite days.

"You adore my presence."

"I do," Jefferson admits softly, leaning up to kiss Killian on the cheek.

***

It's been eleven days since he has talked to Killian. He occupies himself thinking maybe he's done something wrong. But if he has Killian is the type to come forward and say so. Killian isn't one for those sorts of games. So Jefferson decides that after work he'll stop by Killian's cottage and see what the deal is.

***

He stands on the creaky wooden porch of Killian's farm house and hugs his rain coat tighter. He huddles up to the front door but even then the drops land and sting the skin on his cheeks. He's taken aback when a petite girl with loosely curled hair answers the door.

"Oh," she smiles awkwardly, pulling her robe closed. "Um—Killian?" she calls, closing the door without asking Jefferson what he wants.

"Who is it?" Killian asks, gently pushing the girl back to get to the door. He steps onto the porch, forcing Jefferson to step back into the rain. "Oh, hey, love."

"Who—who's that?" Jefferson asks quietly as if he's afraid to hear the answer. He stares down at his wet shoes, trying his best not to let Killian Jones see his disappointment.

"Her name's—"

"I don't care what her name is. What's she doing here?"

"Well, I never pegged you as entirely clueless. What do you think she's doing here?"

"But we're—"

"We're not exclusive, Jefferson," Killian states as if he doesn't care at all about how Jefferson feels.

Jefferson is already upset as it is, and the words are like bullets in his chest. He wonders if this is the true Killian Jones. He wonders where the other guy went. The guy who would hug him from behind and surprise him at work. Clearly, he's away at the moment. Or maybe that Killian wasn't the real one. Jefferson doesn't say anything else. He turns around and silently walks back to his car, waiting until Killian is inside to let a silent tear fall.

***

Jefferson can't believe this is happening. He can't believe it's happening to him. It's been two weeks since he's talked to Killian the last time. It's been almost a month since they were at the inseparable stage. He's hoping that today will go better than the last time he decided to stop by Killian's house.

Jefferson is relieved when Killian answers the door. He seems better than he was the day Jefferson found him with the girl because he actually smiles a little when he sees the doe-eyed man at the door.

"Jefferson," he smiles.

"We need to talk."

Killian silently steps back with the door open and Jefferson steps inside. They go into the small sitting room and Jefferson hugs his coat around his body.

"I'm sorry about—"

"It's not about that," Jefferson cuts in. "I don't... I don't care about who you're fucking." It's a lie; they both know that. But Jefferson is still pissed off and he doesn't want Killian Jones to know how much it still hurts him.

"Alright," Killian nods.

Silence settles over them and Jefferson leans back in the cushions. He suddenly feels sick and he regrets being here but the sooner he says it, the sooner he can leave. "I'm pregnant."

Killian's mouth drops and he doesn't know what to say.

"Well." Jefferson stands up and hugs his coat against his body. "I have to go to work," he says hurriedly, walking to the front door.

"I'll—I'll call you later," Killian grumbles, still sitting in the couch with the shocked expression on his face.

"Okay." Jefferson doubts he'll call.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of six weeks things settle down. Killian and Jefferson talk and Killian tells Jefferson that he's stopped seeing that girl. She is to remain nameless, per Jefferson's demands.

It's a Saturday and Killian is due to Jefferson's for lunch. He rings the doorbell right at one o'clock and Jefferson is there to answer the door in pajama pants and an oversized shirt with a small smile. "Hi."

"Hey," Killian replies, stepping inside and giving Jefferson a quick peck on the lips.

"Sorry I look like this. I've been throwing up all morning," Jefferson grimaces.

"You look fine." he chuckles fondly.

"So lunch is whatever you want. Make yourself anything," Jefferson mutters, plopping on the couch. "I don't feel like cooking."

"Well, that's anticlimactic."

"This was your idea, not mine."

"Grilled cheese?" he calls, heading into the kitchen.

"Oh my god, no."

"It's the only thing I know how to make. Let me cook for you."

Jefferson sighs, pushing himself off the couch. He approaches Killian in the kitchen and wraps his arms around him from behind. "I miss you." What he means is he misses when Killian would stay over night after night.

Killian just hums indifferently. He misses Jefferson, too, but he doesn't know to what degree.

"Stay with me," Jefferson mutters, not letting go. "Please. We can raise the baby together."

"Jefferson," he sighs, playing with Jefferson's fingers and looking down. "I'm not the father type. That should be painfully obvious to you."

Jefferson kisses the back of Killian's neck softly, letting go. "Fine. I won't mention it again."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Will you help me name it?" Jefferson asks quietly. "Will you be at the hospital with me?"

Killian groans because he wishes Jefferson would just shut up about the stupid baby thing. It's as if Jefferson can hear his thoughts because he breaks in with, "It's just—I don’t have anyone else but you, Killian. You're the only person in town that I know."

"Go find someone else to talk to. Make some friends."

"It's not that I want someone to talk to. I want to have the baby and someone to experience it with."

Killian nods because he gets it. "I understand, I do. But I'm not that guy. You've got to understand that."

"No, it's—" Jefferson sighs, looking down. "I get how it works. I understand."

"It's nothing against you, love. I'm just not ready for that," Killian clarifies.

"I'll be fine on my own," Jefferson reasons. "I'm used to it."

***

Ten minutes later Killian and Jefferson are seated at the tiny kitchen table eating. After several bites of the disgusting excuse for food, Jefferson pushes his plate away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What's wrong?" Killian asks.

"I've just been really sick," Jefferson explains quietly.

Killian nods. "Oh."

Jefferson rests his head on the table, sighing. He sits up after the wave of nausea passes. "How's your sandwich?"

"Great, love," he smiles, taking another bite.

Jefferson looks away immediately. "Don't call me that unless you mean it."

"Oh. Um, alright. I'm sorry," he apologizes softly.

Jefferson bites his lip, looking away.

"I am. Sorry, I mean."

Jefferson doesn't really believe him.

***

After lunch they decide to go lay in Jefferson's bed. It's cold and rainy out and Jefferson just wants to cuddle. He curls into Killian's arms, pressing a soft kiss to his lips but Killian kisses back hungrily, winding an arm around Jefferson's hip and pulling their bodies flush together.

"Are we gonna do this right now?" Jefferson mutters.

"Do you want it?" Killian retorts. He nods and pulls Killian closer, kissing down his neck. "You're sure?"

Jefferson gasps quietly when rough hands squeeze his ass through his thin pants. Killian nods and Jefferson murmurs, "That's how we got here in the first place."

"Well, at least it can't happen again."

"What do you want?" Jefferson asks softly, pulling back and Killian pulls him right close again as he feels his desire growing. He needs to taste Jefferson, he needs to feel him, he needs to be inside of him.

"I want you to ride me," Killian grunts, guiding their mouths together. In response, Jefferson hums and breaks the kiss only long enough to pull of his t-shirt. He tugs at Killian's clothes with frantic hands, pulling and shoving until he's naked. Killian pushes Jefferson onto his back, grabbing the elastic waistband of his pants and pulling until they're completely off.

Jefferson gently pushes Killian off and flips them over, trailing kisses down Killian's chest, the soft hair tickling his nose as he does so. Killian knots his fingers in Jefferson's hair and pulls his head back, reaching for the bottle of lube in the night stand drawer.

"You're so impatient," Jefferson mutters, burying his fingers in Killian's hair.

"Too desperate for my own good," he agrees, pressing open mouthed kisses to Jefferson's neck and collarbone.

Jefferson dips his head back to give Killian better access and groans slightly at the feeling of scratchy facial hair on his smooth skin. "Are you still gonna want me when I'm fat and my belly is huge?" Jefferson murmurs.

"Of course I will," Killian mutters, sucking softly at the skin beneath his ear. Jefferson doesn't even bother to correct him this time. "Fuck," he grunts, pushing Jefferson off to the side.

Jefferson flops on the mattress tries to catch his breath, ignoring a sudden wave of nausea as best he can. But he doesn't last long. He has to rush to the bathroom, still naked and tacky with sweat, to throw up, and he really shouldn't be surprised when Killian doesn't come to check on him.

***

When Jefferson returns from the bathroom wrapped in his bath robe he really shouldn't be surprised to see Killian pulling on his clothes.

"Are you alright?" Killian mutters, taking in Jefferson's disheveled appearance.

Jefferson begins to answer with a 'no' but he can't form the words. His mouth is too dry and so he just nods a little because nodding is easier than telling the truth while trying not to cry.

"I'll see you later, love," Killian announces, approaching Jefferson and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Jefferson waits until his front door is closed to have his meltdown.

***

Killian waits to meet Jefferson at the shop Tuesday morning but the door is locked and there's a closed sign on the door. He waits around for almost a half hour before he sees Jefferson comes around from the back of the building.

"What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming by."

"You didn't tell me you'd be a half hour late," Killian retorts, watching as Jefferson unlocks the shop and lets them in.

"I was at an appointment."

Killian's brow wrinkles but then he seemingly remembers. "Everything's fine, I assume?"

Jefferson thinks it's his way of asking how their baby is, but Jefferson feels like being difficult so he just shrugs.

"What do you mean?" Killian presses. "You're coming to work so I'm assuming—”

"Yes, everything is fine," Jefferson snaps, because he doesn't want to play any games today. His back hurts and he's had this damn headache for almost three days. "Will you please leave? I have a ton of work to catch up on."

"I thought I'd keep you company today."

"Killian, please," Jefferson whimpers, and the way his voice cracks when he says it nearly breaks Killian's heart. He can tell Jefferson is hurting and that makes him feel terrible. He wants to hug him, he wants to hold him, he wants to assure him that everything will be fine.

Killian sort of just stands there for a second and Jefferson doesn't know why he does it, but he emits a soft cry. The tears follow shortly after and Killian steps behind the counter to hold him. He kisses his hair and promises that everything will be alright. Jefferson is too tired to argue.


	4. Chapter 4

When Jefferson finds out he's having a girl, he's sure he couldn't be happier. Within two hours of learning of that fact, he's got a name picked out. He should probably tell Killian but they're not exactly on good terms. It could be because of Jefferson's tendency to be difficult and stubborn when they decide to talk about anything at all. Instead of contacting Killian with the news, Jefferson heads to the hardware store because he's got a nursery to paint.

***

It's entirely predictable that Killian shows up at Jefferson's door. He's become a nuisance of sorts and Jefferson is sure Killian is only showing up to bother him. There's nothing much going on between them anymore. They're just friends for now.

Jefferson is polite enough and allows Killian inside to show him the sonogram of their baby. Although he will never admit it, Killian gets a twinkle in his eye when he looks at the image. "He's beautiful," Killian discloses with a small smile, passing the picture back.

Jefferson's sure he's never frowned harder. "It's a girl," he spits, turning his back to Killian and leaving the room. Naturally, Killian trails after him into the previously spare bedroom whose walls are already coated in pastel pink paint.

"You waste no time," Killian comments as he looks around.

"Why would I? There's too much to do."

"You're not very far along. There's still time if you want to—"

Jefferson's head whips around so rapidly that he almost loses his balance on the step ladder. "Fuck you. Get out of my house."

"I'm just saying that you're not in the best place to be having a baby."

"It's your fucking—you know what? You're done here." Jefferson sets his brush down and steps down from the ladder, shoving Killian in the general direction of the door. "Get out. Now."

Killian jerks away from Jefferson and scowls. "You're feisty today."

"When are you going to realize that I'm having this baby and you're partially responsible for her?"

"That doesn't mean I want her." He should see it coming, really, but he doesn't. When Jefferson's hand collides with his cheek, Killian's head jerks to the side and he huffs, clenching his teeth.

"Get out," Jefferson hisses, looking away and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Please, just leave me alone."

Killian stares at him for a moment, deciding that his words of choice are entirely insensitive. "Jefferson," he sighs. "I care for you. I really do, but I'm not father material. You know better than to think I ever would be."

"You could be," Jefferson shrugs, crossing his arms over his distended belly. "You could be good to her if you wanted to be, if you made it a priority. You could be good to me if you wanted to. You used to be. When you first met me, you were so sweet, and charming, and you cared. Now you don't even have the decency to keep your disapproval to yourself. So what, you don't think I should have a baby because I'm alone? Get the fuck out."

Killian complies, but that doesn't mean that he isn't thinking about all of the things Jefferson has told him.

***

Two weeks later Jefferson's doorbell rings. Outside the weather is unforgiving; snowy and bitterly cold. Jefferson is already settled in for the night, curled up on his corner of the couch with his mug of decaf tea and a blanket. Nonetheless, he heaves himself off of the sofa and pads softly over to the front door.

"Go away," Jefferson states immediately upon seeing Killian standing on his porch.

Killian gives Jefferson an irritated look before clearing his throat. "May I come in?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to talk to you."

"About?"

"What you said to me the last time we spoke."

Jefferson thinks for a moment and decides that it's rude of him not to at least hear Killian out. So he moves aside and Killian steps inside, walking through to the living room with Jefferson in tow. They sit on the couch and Jefferson smoothes his shirt over his belly. "Would you like some tea or—?"

"No, I'm alright," Killian nods. "I've just been thinking about what you said, and you're right. If you really want the baby, you should have her."

"I intend to," Jefferson murmurs.

"And I—I would like to start seeing you again. I've missed you."

Jefferson doesn't really have the energy to deal with this right now. He isn't sure what to think, but he's certain that Killian has other intentions. Instead of addressing the issue, he stands up and tugs at his jeans. "Do you want to see the nursery?"

Killian nods silently and stands as well, following Jefferson down the hallway. When Jefferson flips the light on, Killian takes it all in. The walls are a soft pink, a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling in place of a traditional light fixture, and the windows are covered in flowing lace panels. Everything is so lavish and beautiful and perfect. The only thing missing is the crib.

"I do hope you intend on buying something to put the baby in."

"Shut up."

"You did this by yourself?" he asks.

"Mm," Jefferson hums with a nod, smiling just a little.

As Killian examines the room more closely, he sees white wooden letters that hang above the changing table. "Grace," he says softly before turning to Jefferson. "That's the name you've chosen?"

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Killian answers honestly. "Fit for a princess."  
They talk for four hours, and Jefferson decides to give Killian another chance. 


	5. Chapter 5

This morning is like all other mornings that Killian spends in Jefferson's apartment except that when he comes into the kitchen, he finds Jefferson wearing nothing but an oversized plaid shirt. He's at the stove, pale thighs bare and enticing.

"Morning," he says, eyes unmoving from Jefferson's legs. He much prefers this view of Jefferson, bloated belly out of sight.

Jefferson glances over his shoulder, smiles, and says, "Hey. Coffee?"

"No," he mutters. He approaches so quietly that it catches Jefferson by surprise.

"What—"

"C'mere," Killian says and he says it so quickly that Jefferson can't protest because his hands are on him. He grabs Jefferson's hips and brings them back against his own. He's already getting hard, but the friction of Jefferson's flannel-covered ass helps matters. His lips go instantly to Jefferson's neck, smooth and soft and warm, and he sucks a bruise there.

Jefferson lets himself moan, lets his head fall back against Killian's shoulder. He reaches around and buries his fingers in Killian's hair, still damp from his shower, and braces himself against the counter with the other arm. He feels Killian's hard cock against the back of his thigh and whines, high and needy. The sound goes right to Killian's dick and he bites down, pushing Jefferson into the counter as his belly bears most of the impact.

"Killian! Be careful."

"Sorry." He steps back and spins Jefferson around. It's difficult, but he manages to lift Jefferson by his thighs and he carries him back to the bedroom, setting him on the edge of the bed gently. "Better?"

Jefferson nods and flops down on his back. He watches Killian hesitate, watches him stare at his swollen belly like it's the most repulsive thing he's seen, and suddenly he's not so excited anymore. He stares, waiting for Killian to say or do something, but he doesn't.

"What?" asks Jefferson. His voice wavers and he sounds so small.

Killian looks away, shaking his head. "Nothing."

Jefferson reaches over to the bottle of lube that sits on the nightstand and offers it to Killian. "Here," he says, but when he looks over at Killian, Killian isn't so hard anymore.

"I've got to get to work," he manages to say.

"Oh. Okay." Jefferson hears the disappointment in his own voice and he hates it. He hates Killian for moving them into the bedroom. Had they not moved, they would probably be in the middle of a hot fuck against the kitchen counter. But Jefferson knows that Killian can't deal with seeing him this way.

"I'm sorry," Killian says.

"It's okay," says Jefferson, but Killian knows it's not.

***

Jefferson is upset and it stays without him throughout the whole day. He feels bad about himself enough already; Killian can't—won't fuck him, and he's practically begging for it. They haven't had sex since before they knew about the baby and Jefferson is sick of it, so he decides to re-enact the scenario from this morning but with better strategy: he'll be in the kitchen when Killian comes home, same plaid shirt, same smooth legs, but the lights will be dim and there will be lubricant available so there will be no need to go to the bedroom. He'll get Killian to fuck him in the heat of the moment and when Killian realizes what he's been missing, the sex will resume. It's a cockamamie scheme but Jefferson is 100% sure that it will work.

***

"Jefferson?"

"In the kitchen!"

Killian follows his voice and is sure to be experiencing déjà vu when he finds Jefferson in the same shirt as this morning. The kitchen is dark aside from the light over the stove where Jefferson is standing.

"Hey." Jefferson glances over his shoulder with a small smile. "Come here." Killian does so, brow arched slightly, and then Jefferson shoves a spoon to his lips. "Taste this."

He tastes it and it's rich and creamy and has a bit of a kick to it. "What is it?"

"Spicy tomato soup." Jefferson gives the pot another good stir and then turns it off. He turns to face Killian directly, spoon in hand, and lifts it to his lips. He looks up at Killian and licks the spoon obscenely. "Do you like it?"

"S'good, yeah," Killian says, looking away.

Jefferson sets the spoon down and decides that he will take a direct approach. Killian is close enough so that when Jefferson reaches out he can easily cup Killian through his jeans. He pretends not to see dread flash across Killian's face and drops to his knees anyway. The impact that his knees make against the floor is hard and he's sure to ache later because of it.

He unzips and unbuttons Killian's pants with ease, yanking them down to his ankles along with his boxer shorts. Killian isn't hard but Jefferson is sure he can fix that. He laps his tongue over the length, warm and wet and experienced. He wraps his hand around the length that doesn't quite fit and reaches up with his other hand, resting it against Killian's taught belly. He licks a stripe up the still-flaccid penis with a soft hum and he pauses because Killian actually groans at that.

Jefferson looks up at Killian, lips stretched tight over his cock and belly disguised by this angle, and he celebrates the small victory of Killian burying his fingers in his hair. He presses his tongue against the underside of the head and Killian actually moans that time. He pulls away from the head with an lewd pop to lick a stripe up the slowly hardening length.

"Fuck," Killian mutters. His fingers tangle in Jefferson's hair and he tugs gently at the roots.

Jefferson pulls away, hand jerking up and down the length slowly.

"Bloody hell," Killian breathes in that obnoxiously attractive accent. "What's gotten into you?"

"I want you to fuck me," Jefferson deadpans. He presses his tongue into the slit of Killian's cock and smiles when Killian whimpers. He finally pulls back and struggles to stand to his feet, reaching for the bottle of lube on the counter and practically shoving it into Killian's hand.

Killian gives him a look and a soft sigh. He steps out of his pants and boxers, popping the cap. and coating two fingers. "Turn around, then."

Jefferson does so, cheeks flushed with eagerness. He pushes his black briefs to his ankles and kicks them to the side. He spreads his legs, keeping himself a safe distance from the counter's edge. He feels Killian's slick fingers at his hole and his thighs are trembling with anticipation.

When Killian slips two fingers in, Jefferson moans like he's coming. He's so starved, so touch deprived, that he could probably come from this alone if he concentrated hard enough. He groans appreciatively when Killian thrusts them in gently. He folds his arms on the counter and rests his head on them with a whimper because he's ready, he's so ready to get fucked senseless.

Several seconds later Jefferson says, "I'm good, can you—"

"But I just—"

"Just fuck me!"

There's a sigh and a muttered 'fine' as Killian lines his cock up with Jefferson's eager hole. He pushes against him and Jefferson's knees buckle under him. He manages to hold himself up and reaches between his legs. He's already leaking pre-come and he has to be careful or he'll come prematurely.

Killian lines up with him and starts to push inside, hands on Jefferson's hips. Jefferson whines when the head probes against his hole and he pushes back like he can't get Killian's dick in fast enough. When he's in, Jefferson cries. There are tears in his eyes and the feeling at the back of his throat that only comes from the most intense joyful feelings.

Jefferson moves to brace himself against the counter with one arm and reaches between his thighs with the other hand. He strokes himself and feels Killian's cheek against his shoulder. He relishes the moment, closes his eyes and enjoys the soft scratch of facial hair against his pale skin.

"Oh my god," Jefferson whimpers.

"You alright?"

He nods and thumbs the head of his cock. "Oh, fuck, Killian, oh—"

Killian actually laughs at that and kisses his shoulder softly. He thrusts harder and the soft slapping of skin in combination with Jefferson's moans fill the kitchen.

Jefferson jerks himself quicker and he's so close he can feel it. He pushes his hips back against the thrusts and the new angle is perfect and then he's coming. He lets out a shameless moan, his legs trembling under his weight and Killian has to hold him to keep him from falling. Jefferson's vision is hazy and he's sure he's seeing stars. He feels soft and worn out as he comes down from his orgasm. He feels Killian still pumping in and out of him until he comes inside of him and slides out moments later.

Jefferson turns around to face him, legs still weak and hands shaky. "Thank you," he says, earnest.

Killian looks at him a moment, expression softening. He leans forward and kisses Jefferson's cheek in reply.


	6. Chapter 6

Killian is an awful drunk: angry, bitter, and hot-tempered. He can hold his liquor with the best of them, but for him to be this drunk he's been drinking for hours.

Jefferson distances himself when Killian shows up like this. He tries not to let him in the apartment but Killian pushes his way in. He slams into the entry way wall and Jefferson takes a step back, hand hovering over his belly because he'll do anything to protect this baby and he feels entirely threatened right now. "What do you want?"

Killian tries to straighten up but he fails miserably. He sniffs, rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and sneers at Jefferson. "'S'my place, isn't it? Might 's'well be."

He decides that fighting back when Killian is like this will only upset him more. Instead, Jefferson forces himself to lower the hand that's hovering over his belly and take a step closer to Killian. "Are you hungry?" he asks, hopeful.

"M'not hungry," Killian says, shaking his head so dramatically that he loses balance. His shoulder crashes into the wall so hard that Jefferson is surprised when it doesn't leave a hole.

Jefferson sighs and steps closer. He really shouldn't but he does, he has to, or something much worse could happen. "C'mon, you need to sleep it off." He takes Killian's wrist in his hand, tugging him toward the bedroom, and he follows Jefferson's steps in a much sloppier pattern.

They get to Jefferson's bedroom and Killian falls onto the bed. Jefferson hefts Killian's feet up there as well, one after the other, and pulls off his work boots. He cringes at the dirt marks they leave on his freshly washed comforter but figures he'll wash it again tomorrow. He should probably be worried about alcohol poisoning or Killian choking to death on his own vomit but he doesn't really give it a second thought. "Go to sleep."

"You're a fucking lunatic," Killian slurs, unprovoked.

"Go to sleep," Jefferson repeats, turning off the light. He rationalizes that he must be a lunatic, otherwise he would kick Killian out right here and now.

***

The next morning Jefferson has been up for some time when Killian finally stirs. He stumbles into the kitchen clutching his head and squinting. Jefferson pays him no mind and doesn't even look up from his computer.

"Why am I here?" he asks.

"You showed up drunk," says Jefferson, eyes still fixed on his computer screen. "It's a goddamn miracle you didn't kill anyone on your way here."

"S'that all that happened?"

Jefferson nods. "I put you to bed. You passed out within a minute."

"What—where did you sleep?"

"On the couch, you're welcome. Now, I would appreciate it if would please show yourself out."

"I'm—"

Jefferson rolls his eyes because he has had enough. "Get out!" he snaps, and Killian squeezes his eyes shut.

"Could you please refrain from yelling, love?"

And Jefferson's blood is boiling at that statement. He slams his laptop closed and stands up, hands braced on the table. "Excuse the fuck out of me for yelling at the hungover asshole who showed up drunk last night! Why the fuck are you even here, anyway? Why are you even bothering with me? Because I'm knocked up? I don't need your pathetic ass and neither does my baby. Get the hell out."

"Jefferson—"

"Get out!"

So Killian does, and Jefferson is left staring at the closed door.

***

Jefferson has eleven days of peace and quiet. It's an early Sunday afternoon when he is tidying up his apartment for the upcoming week. He's got a mop in his hand when there's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Jefferson calls; he isn't expecting anyone.

"It's me," Killian hollers back.

He scowls immediately. "Go away."

"Jefferson—"

"No!"

There's silence followed by a heavy sigh on the other side of the door. "I came to apologize."

Jefferson snorts. Of course he did.

"Will you please open the door?"

Jefferson gives it some thought and decides that no, he doesn't want to and he isn't going to. "No."

Killian sighs again and Jefferson hears a soft thud against the door.

"I came to apologize," he says again, pleading. "Please." He pauses. "I brought you chocolate strawberries."

At the mention of chocolate strawberries, Jefferson caves. He opens the door, mop in hand, and Killian is standing there with a bouquet of crappy grocery store flowers and a clear plastic container of strawberries. He offers them hesitantly and Jefferson takes both things, motioning for Killian to follow him in.

"Should you be cleaning?" Killian asks, glancing at the bucket of mop water.

"It's good exercise," says Jefferson. He goes to the kitchen sink and fishes out an old glass vase which he rises out, fills with several inches of water and plops his flowers in.

Killian sits down at the table and rests his head on his hand. "I'm sorry I—"

"Don't do it again," Jefferson snaps. "If you think I'm going to expose my kid to that, you've got another thing coming."

"Our kid," Killian clarifies. He gives Jefferson's rounded belly a fleeting glance. "And I won't. You don't have to worry about that."

"Good." Jefferson sets the mop back in the bucket of water and turns to face Killian. "How else are you going to make it up to me?"

He understands what Jefferson is getting at and stands up, shedding his jacket and draping it over the chair. "After you," he prompts, arm extended in the direction of Jefferson's bedroom.

***

It is November 30th and Killian has told Jefferson that there is a surprise waiting for him outside.

"What kind of surprise?" asks Jefferson.

"If I told you it would no longer be a surprise." Killian kisses his cheek softly, grabbing his hand. "Close your eyes."

He does and then Killian leads him out to the porch. He opens his eyes on command and sees a brand new crib, disassembled in its box, leaning against the wall on his porch. His eyes sparkle when he looks at Killian. "For the baby?"

Killian shakes his head and with a straight face says, "No, it's for you. I thought you could use a new place to sleep."

It's lame and Jefferson laughs anyhow. He is still holding Killian's hand and he squeezes it gently, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

Killian smiles over at him and squeezes back. "You're welcome."

Their situation isn't ideal, but Jefferson will make the best of it.

***

Later in the evening among the Christmas decorations they've put up, Jefferson sits on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. "She's kicking," he says, hand on his swollen abdomen.

Killian looks over, curiosity peaked. "You can feel it?"

"Yes." He reaches for Killian's hand and places it on the exact spot where Grace is kicking at his ribs. He watches Killian's face for a reaction but there isn't one. Killian manages to nod and pull his hand back.

Jefferson sighs. "Are you going to love this baby?"

"I'm going to try," says Killian.


	7. Chapter 7

Baby Grace has died. Her tiny heart just stopped beating.

_Sometimes these things just happen. You can try again in a few months._

But they don't understand; none of them understand that this baby was a blessing and that she was an accident but also that Jefferson loves her more than anything. He needs her and he needs her to be okay and he needs for Killian to love her, too.

Jefferson's regular doctor is out on vacation and Dr. Whale is filling in for her. He comes back into the room with Jefferson's chart and looks like he's been punched in the gut repeatedly.

"You'll have to deliver her," he says, voice strained, like he doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news.

Jefferson shakes his head. "I don't want to." He needs her. He needs for her to be okay and he needs for Killian to love her.

"I know it's hard to think about."

Jefferson looks over at the ultrasound monitor and interrupts him. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the machine?"

Whale drops the chart on the desk behind him and puts a hand on Jefferson's arm. "I know it's a shock for you. I'm very sorry."

"I need to call Killian," Jefferson whispers.

"You'll have some time to do that. We're going to admit you and you can decide what to do from there, okay?"

"No," says Jefferson, starting to cry. It is definitely not okay.

***

Jefferson is curled around himself when Killian gets to the hospital with a small bag of clothes and things Jefferson might need. He drops it on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Did they say what happened?" he asks, sitting down in the plastic chair against the wall.

Jefferson shakes his head and he's still crying and he can't stop touching his belly, can't stop anticipating kicks that will never come. "I need her," he says. "I need her to be okay. I need for you to love her."

"Jefferson—"

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know, right now I'm just—"

"What do you mean you don't know?" he spits, harsh and cruel and judgmental. "There's something wrong with you. Is your chest just an empty cavity where your heart should be?" Killian looks wounded but Jefferson doesn't care. "Why are you even here if you don't care? Just leave, just fucking go."

”I care,” Killian snaps, hushed. “I do care or I wouldn’t have taken off work to be here. What did the doctor say?"

"I don't remember," he snaps back, and it's a partial truth. Everything is such a blur and it all hurts so much. The bitter, angry Jefferson goes back into his shell for now and he's subdued once more.

Killian pinches the bridge of his nose as if it will help him. "Who's your nurse?"

"I don't know."

"Right." Killian pushes himself out of the chair. "I'll be right back."

Jefferson nods but he doesn't care, not really. He wouldn't care if Killian left altogether. All he cares about right now is Grace and how Grace isn't kicking and how Grace's heart isn't beating and how Grace is no more. He is unsure how long Killian is gone for but Killian looks wounded when he steps back in the room.

"You didn't tell me you were having surgery tomorrow," he says in an accusatory tone.

Jefferson stares at the pale blue wall. "You didn't ask."

Killian sits back down and Jefferson begins to think about all of the things that Grace won't get to experience. He thinks about the nursery and how it will be empty when he gets home and that's what gets him. He begins to cry again and he curls around himself even further as if it will protect Grace from the harm that's already come to her. He is surprised when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, love," Killian whispers, his voice cracking.

"Me too," Jefferson whispers back, and he begins to cry harder.

***

Jefferson is vaguely aware of what's going on around him during the surgery. His view is blocked by a blue tarp from the neck down and he's drowsy but he can hear the surgeons talking. His hair is in an ugly white cover that resembles a shower cap and Killian is dressed much the same way. He is standing by Jefferson's head holding his hand.

Jefferson feels hot tears sting his eyes and he allows them to fall freely. It doesn't take long for them to cut her out and he is crying the whole time. He feels empty and he soon realizes it's because they've lifted Grace out of him. She is small and limp and blue. Her cry does not carry across the room because she is no more.

"I want to hold her," says Jefferson through his tears. "Can I hold her?"

Killian squeezes his hand and steps away to talk to the nurse who's got their tiny girl and when he returns, he tells Jefferson that they will be able to hold her after the recovery room.

***

"She's tiny," Jefferson says, voice barely above a whisper. He traces his fingers along those eyelids that will never open and across those lips that will never smile.

"She was beautiful," Killian says, because she is—was.

As Jefferson holds her, he cries, and for the second time in his life he hopes that he won't wake up tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

Going home without the baby is surreal. Things around the apartment are the same as Jefferson left him the morning he found out that baby Grace had died. He remembers procrastinating on doing the dishes because he would do them later, he figured, after the appointment. They are likely to sit there for weeks now.

Killian comes in behind him carrying the hospital bag and Jefferson's pain prescription from the pharmacy. He sets the things in the dining room table and shrugs his jacket off.

Jefferson can't stand to even look at the nursery on his way to the bedroom. He walks slowly, the pain from his incision growing with each step. He sits at the edge of the bed and toes off his shoes before turning onto his side. In his arms is Grace's bloodstained blanket. He hasn't let go of it since they took her from him for the last time.

Killian has followed him and hovers in the doorway. "You going to sleep?"

Jefferson cannot force himself to speak so he nods just barely.

"I'm gonna stay a while," he says, looking at the floor, "if that's okay."

Maybe it's because Killian cares or maybe it's out of guilt or maybe Jefferson doesn't care why. He manages to croak out an 'okay' and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

***

Grace has been gone eleven days and the feeling is only getting worse. Her tiny body has been sent for cremation. There is no money for a grave and there are no guests to attend a memorial service. There is no one else on Earth who will even remember her except for him and Killian, who is seemingly doing his best to forget that she ever existed.

Jefferson is finding it harder and harder to get out of bed and it has been four days since his last shower and Killian won't leave him alone.

And there he is again, knocking on the door frame and asking, "You're sure you're not hungry?"

"I'm fine," he snaps, but they both know that's not true.

***

It's a scene that's played out a dozen times before:

"Do you want anything from the diner?" Killian asks.

Jefferson looks up at him with tired, dead eyes. "What?"

"I'm going to get dinner." Killian sighs at having to repeat himself. "Do you want anything?"

_Pills or booze or razors or my baby, maybe._

Jefferson shakes his head. "No."

***

"I think you should talk to someone."

They're having breakfast, and Killian is having an almost one-sided conversation. Jefferson sits quietly and listens but doesn't say anything. Lifting the spoon from his oatmeal bowl to his mouth is effort enough.

"I understand it's hard for you, but you haven't left the house since you got home," he continues.

Jefferson's eyes slowly flicker up to meet Killian's gaze. "So?"

"It's been five weeks. I'm assuming you've lost your job?"

Jefferson shrugs.

Killian sighs. "You'd be dead if I hadn't stuck around."

Would that be such a bad thing? Jefferson wonders. He decides it wouldn't.

***

It's getting worse and Jefferson knows it. He knows that he's only falling deeper into depression but he can't stop himself because he doesn't care. Killian is still around for some unknown reason—out of guilt, maybe, but everything is so much worse these days. He hasn't left the house—he refuses to, even, and it's been so long and he's starting to think that maybe he'll never leave again. Sometimes Killian comes home at two in the morning and he's drunk and verbally abusive and Jefferson will curl up tighter as every insult falls through the gaping hole inside of him.

On the mornings after, Killian will go to work with a massive hangover and come home with apology flowers that are left to wilt in the kitchen windowsill with the others.

***

It's two AM and he's in the nursery and he honestly doesn't know why he thought this would be a good idea because it's not; he's sobbing and he can't get a hold of himself and he's shaking so hard because it's not fair. None of it is far and he doesn't deserve this. He reaches out for the lamp on top of the dresser and he throws it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces and then he's screaming because he realizes that he's destroyed a piece of Grace that he can never get back.

"Jefferson?" comes Killian's worried cry. It seems like it takes him forever to get to the room but when he does he's disheveled from sleep and shirtless and he rushes to Jefferson's side.

And Jefferson doesn't know what he's doing, he honestly doesn't, because he should hate Killian for doing this to him. If Grace didn't exist in the first place, he couldn't be sick over losing her, but he is and Killian is the only one around to offer him any comfort. Killian takes him by the shoulders, hands firm and comforting as he squeezes a little. Jefferson curls into him, he doesn't know why, but he does.

***

Later, hours later when Jefferson is cried out, he's limp on the bed and Grace's bloodstained blanket is crumpled against his chest and Killian is behind him. Daylight is breaking and the bedside table lamp is still on. Fingers ghost over the scar on his left wrist.

"What's this?" Killian mutters.

Jefferson feels like he shouldn't be asking, like if he wanted to tell he'd offer the information, but right now he doesn't care. It was so long ago, he was fourteen, and it's so faded now that sometimes he forgets it's there.

"I was fourteen," Jefferson whispers. He pulls his wrist gently out of Killian's touch and tucks it against his body. He doesn't feel like talking about it any longer. He just feels like sleeping.

***

When Jefferson wakes his face itches from the dried tears. His eyes are red and irritated and he tries not to rub them when he gets out of bed. He relieves himself in the bathroom and stumbles into the kitchen to see it cleaned. The wilted flowers from the windowsill have been tossed into the trash and the dishwasher is running. For the first time in what feels like forever, Jefferson's stomach is growling and when he goes to satisfy his hunger, he finds a freshly stocked refrigerator.


	9. Chapter 9

Killian doesn't come back for three days. Jefferson waits. He even stays out of bed for more than four hours at a time. He wonders if he will ever see him again. He has mixed feelings about the possibility of not seeing him again, not thanking him for cleaning and for the groceries. He knows he has to get better, he knows that he can't stay like this forever. He needs to recover, he needs to accept what's happened and move on no matter how much it hurts. He decides he'll have a glass of wine and stay up a little longer.

***

He isn't disappointed by his effort to stay up when Killian unlocks the front door. Jefferson vaguely wonders where he got the key and he watches to see if Killian is drunk. He is not.

"I'm surprised to see you up."

Jefferson swallows, looks at anything an everything but Killian's face. He wants to say something, but he's not sure what to say or how to say it. He settles for a whispered 'hi' and downs the rest of his wine.

"I had to get away," Killian says. He doesn't offer a further explanation.

"I didn't think you were coming back," Jefferson admits softly.

Killian hums. "How are you feeling?"

"Fuzzy."

"At least that's something, right?"

"Sure," Jefferson whispers. He pushes his glass away and he can't stop staring at his hands. It's so quiet and he can barely stand it and he's contemplating going back to bed and when he stands up, Killian steps in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Killian blurts. When Jefferson looks at him, his eyes fall to the floor. "I'm sorry about the baby. I know you're having a rough time of it. You don't deserve any of this."

The last part is so quiet, Jefferson almost doesn't hear him. Before Jefferson knows it, he's being pulled into a hug and his eyes tear at that because it's so good to be held so close. He can't talk so he only nods and a few tears drip onto Killian's shoulder. He vaguely wonders if he's being selfish in his grief, if his feelings of resentment toward Killian are invalid because maybe he's hurting, too.

Killian pulls back and swipes his thumbs under Jefferson's eyes to catch his tears. "Know that if I could change it, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Jefferson looks up and the tears are still spilling when he nods. That's when Jefferson remembers that Killian lost a baby, too.

Killian smiles at him then, soft and sad, and then asks, "Are you hungry?"

Jefferson shrugs just a little and Killian takes that as a yes.

***

It's the first time Jefferson has been out of the house. It's for his six week post-postpartum check up. He doesn't even want to go, but Killian has persuaded him and he thinks it will be good for him.

It's not good for him at all.

He sits in the lobby and watches a pregnant woman with her toddler and when he gets back in the exam room his doctor pokes and prods at his belly and his scar and tells him that he should probably seek professional counseling. Jefferson sighs and counts the minutes until he's back at home.

***

"Maybe you should come to my place for a bit," Killian says from the doorway of the nursery.

Jefferson shakes his head from where he sits in the rocking chair. "I don't want to."

"You've been in here for three hours, love," says Killian. "A change of scenery could do all the good."

He doesn't want to, but he can't imagine staring at these pink walls much longer.

***

"Make yourself at home." Killian pushes the front door open and allows Jefferson to enter before him. He goes through the small farm house and gives Jefferson the tour, stopping at the spare bedroom where Jefferson will be staying. Jefferson sets his duffle bag on the bed and tries to make himself sound as if he's not about to have a breakdown.

"Thank you," he says, turning to face Killian and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm gonna go to sleep for a while if you don't mind."

"No, no. Go ahead."

When Killian is gone, Jefferson curls into a fetal position and buries his face in his pillow.

***

Killian comes in the door from work and Jefferson straightens up. "Hi."

"Hi," Killian echoes. He flashes him a charming smile and kicks the door closed.

"What's that?" Jefferson asks softly, eyeing the towel-covered wooden crate in Killian's arms.

Killian sets the crate down on the coffee table and pulls the towel off. He reaches in and pulls out a small kitten no more than two months old.

"Found him down at the docks. You can have him if you'd like." He plops on the couch beside Jefferson and holds the kitten against his chest. His calloused working hands contrast against the kitten's gray coat and Jefferson reaches over with a tentative hand to scratch its head.

"What'd you do today?"

Jefferson shrugs and retracts his hand as if he's been burned. He doesn't want to talk about himself or his feelings or how he stayed on the couch all day. He doesn't. Instead, he gets up and heads into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Killian interrupts his solace mid-sip and Jefferson wants to slap him, wants to push him away, but when Killian takes his hand Jefferson just sort of melts. He allows himself to be hugged, to be held, and rests his head against Killian's shoulder.

Later that night, they decide to name the kitten Chess.

***

Jefferson decides that he likes having Chess around for company when Killian is gone. They curl up on the couch and watch TV together until they fall back asleep until the late afternoon.

Being away from home makes it easier for Jefferson to deal with Grace's death. He can't sit in the nursery and dwell on what happened or what didn't happen. He can go into Killian's bedroom and lay down and smell him on the pillows when he's feeling lonely.

He stands in the doorway of Killian's bathroom, knocking his knuckles lightly against the door frame.

Killian looks up from where he's soaking in the hot bath and lolls his head to the side.

Jefferson swallows. "I'm going for a walk."

Killian's eyes widen in surprise. "Okay.

"I won't be gone too long," Jefferson says as he shuffles away from the bathroom and out the front door. Outside, he feels like he's able to breathe again.


	10. Chapter 10

He manages to cook dinner for the first time since Grace died almost three months ago. It's simple spaghetti, a side salad and garlic bread, and he sets the table minutes before Killian is to walk in. It's not romantic, there are no candles and there is no tablecloth, but it's a gesture that Jefferson hopes Killian will appreciate. As predicted, Killian walks in 10 past 6 and Jefferson bites back a small smile when Killian's face lights up.

"Well, what's all this about?" he asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I just thought it'd be a nice thing to do." He shifts his weight and hopes that his cheeks aren't tinged pink. He steps over to the table and quietly pulls his chair out as Killian does the same.

Several minutes into dinner, Killian apparently feels the need to interrupt the comfortable silence. "How are you feeling about everything?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Jefferson snaps. He doesn't mean to, not really. He steals a glance from the man across from him and shrinks in his chair. "I'm sorry. I don't want to talk about Grace."

"I wasn't asking about Grace. I'm asking how you're feeling after the emotional hell you've been through. I still think you need to go see someone." His tone is final and he probably doesn't expect Jefferson to actually respond.

"It's getting better," he says, pushing his noodles around on the plate. "I mean, I guess it is. Maybe." He swallows thickly. "I miss her kicking."

Killian says nothing then, just looks at him sympathetically and reaches across the table to take his hand.

***

It's bad, it's a bad decision for both of them, but that doesn't stop Jefferson from crawling into Killian's metal-framed queen size bed and tucking himself against Killian's side. He doesn't know what time it is, all he knows is that it's early in the morning, and he can't sleep but at least now he's warm.

Killian stirs, licking his lips and shifting slightly, and Jefferson nudges closer to him. "Couldn't sleep," he whispers.

Killian doesn't say anything, just presses slack lips to Jefferson's forehead and falls back into his peaceful slumber.

***

They're curled up together on Killian's sofa, Jefferson with his head in Killian's lap and the kitten has made himself comfortable on Jefferson's stomach. The TV plays some b-rated movie that neither of them are really watching, but for some reason Jefferson feels that it's necessary to wait until a commercial comes on to say something.

"I made an appointment with Doctor Hopper. I was wondering if I could borrow the money for it. Just until I go back to work."

Killian's fingers linger in Jefferson's soft curls and he nods just a little. "Of course."

***

His first session with Doctor Hopper is hard but he expresses more than he thought he would. He tells about how empty he feels without Grace, how hard it was to not have a funeral for her, and the way Killian treated him right after. It hurts and Jefferson is relieved when the hour is up, but he tells Doctor Hopper that he will be back this time next week.

Outside, Killian waits for him in the idling truck and gives him a soft smile as he climbs in. "How'd it go?"

Jefferson pulls his coat tighter around his body and leans his head against the window. "It was okay."

"Any chance you'll go back?"

Jefferson nods his head like it takes all the effort in the world. "This time next week."

***

The second session goes even better than the first, which is saying something. Jefferson is told to come up with a simple routine to stick to. It's supposed to help him focus his energy on completing tasks instead of focusing it on being sad all the time. He thinks it's bogus advice, but promises to at least try.

This time when the session is over, Killian is sitting inside the waiting area.

***

Another week and Jefferson has established his routine. He's getting better and he can stand to be in his house without having breakdowns. He won't go in the nursery anymore no matter how much he wants to because it hurts when he does and he's trying to stop hurting. And then Jefferson comes clean. "I want another baby."

Killian looks over at him from the kitchen table, doing little to hide his shock. "I don't think—"

"Doctor Hopper told me to be honest with you and tell you what I'm feeling."

"And that's great," Killian intones, "but you haven't even got a job." He stands up and crosses over to sit on the couch where Jefferson leans into his side. "I know you're still hurting over Grace. I just think you should wait a little while longer."

It's not a no and Killian didn't refuse so Jefferson counts this as a win. He sighs, resting his head against Killian's shoulder because it's been weeks and weeks and he's been waiting for all of the grief and pain to leave his body and tonight he thinks he's starting to feel again.

***

It's Saturday evening and it's freezing outside and he's under two blankets on the couch when there's a knock at the door. He forces himself to get up, not entirely surprised to see Killian on his doorstep bundled in several layers—but entirely surprised to see that Killian is holding a bouquet roses.

"Hi," he says softly. "Can I come in?"

Jefferson steps aside to let him in and closes the door behind him, gesturing halfheartedly at the roses. "What's this?"

"They're for you," says Killian as he sets them down on the coffee table.

Jefferson shifts nervously, his gaze falling to the red roses. "You bought me flowers?" he asks, and he doesn't mean to but he sounds so genuinely confused. "What for?"

Killian looks away with flushed cheeks and then back to Jefferson. "It's Valentine's Day."

Oh.

Jefferson panics, he panics because he wonders if they had plans and he forgot, he panics because he is absolutely not prepared to accept this kind of gesture.

"Thank—um, thank you. They're pretty."

"Look, Jefferson—"

"No, it's okay. I like them. Thank you."

Killian sighs. "Not that."

"What then?"

Killian pulls his woven hat from his head and runs a hand over his hair. He plops onto the couch and allows Jefferson's cat to climb onto his lap. "I just—I feel so bad about what happened with the baby and everything."

"I don't want to talk about her," he says quickly, quietly. "Please, I don't want to talk about her. Please." He's better, he promises he's better, but he doesn't want to talk about Grace.

"We don't have to talk about her. Come here," he says, arm outstretched. Jefferson sits beside him and leans into his side and remembers how good it feels to be next to someone.

"What do you want from me?" Jefferson asks in a whisper. He doesn't mean to sound accusatory or antagonistic, he just wants to know. It'd be nice to know.

"I don't want anything from you," Killian answers, quiet.

"I just—you show up with flowers on Valentine's Day. You brought me a cat," he says softly. His fingers pick at a loose thread on his t-shirt.

"The cat wasn't intentional; I was going to keep him anyhow, just figured you could use the company more than I could." Killian rests his head carefully against Jefferson's shoulder almost as if he's afraid of the consequences of doing so.

"And the flowers?" Jefferson asks quietly. His answer is in the form of a kiss pressed against his lips.

***

Jefferson is dozing on the sofa with his cat when Killian barges through the front door. He's freshly showered and dressed in all black. It's not a good sign, Jefferson knows. Killian is going to try and drag him out of the house.

"Um."

Killian smiles and leans down to kiss Jefferson's forehead. "Get up, we're going out to dinner."

Jefferson sighs. "And if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll respect your wishes but I'll be devastated."

He sighs again. "You're so over dramatic."

"So what's it going to be?"

Jefferson pulls himself into a sitting position and looks up at Killian helplessly. He doesn't want to go, he'd give anything not to, but he knows it could be good for him. He feels himself tear up, doesn't know why, but doesn't hold back tears as they begin to fall.

Killian sighs and reaches up to thread his fingers in Jefferson's hair. "We don't have to go. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Jefferson echoes, because he is. He wants to be normal again, but the thought of going out among other people terrifies him. He's not ready, not yet, and Killian needs to understand that. "Maybe some time soon?" he asks, hopeful.

Killian nods. "Of course." 


	11. Chapter 11

Two more weeks and Jefferson decides that it's time for him to go back to work. He waits for Killian to leave and then pulls himself out of bed to get showered and dressed. He could just as easily call, but going down to the shop in person might put the odds in his favor; he knows he still looks like shit, and at the mention of his dead baby and battling depression, he's more likely to get his job back. It's fucked, but it'll work. He's sure of it.

***

Jefferson leaves the shop with a hint of a smile on his face because he was right; the mention of what he'd been going through—the counseling, the show of his desire to resume his life after the death of his baby—has worked its magic and secured him his job once more. It hurt like hell to have to tell those things to a near stranger, but he feels better somehow. He reminds himself that this is a good sign. He reminds himself to tell Dr. Hopper at his next session.

***

"What'd you get up to today?" asks Killian as he hands Jefferson a plate. They're side by side at the sink, arms barely touching, sharing the duty of washing dishes after dinner. "Watch anything good on TV?"

"Actually," Jefferson says, reaching up and setting the now-dry plate in the cabinet, "I got my job back."

"What?" Killian gasps. He doesn't even try to hide his excitement.

"Yeah, I went down to the shop after you left this morning, explained what’s been going on. I was lucky they hadn't filled my position yet."

Killian stares at him dumbly, grinning, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jefferson smiles back at him and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and that's when Killian strikes—he kisses him. A sharp tug pulls him fully against Killian and Killian's kissing full and hard, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

He moans into Killian's mouth because this is the most he's felt since Grace died and he kind of wants it, wants to see where it'll go, how far they'll get. He reaches up and buries his fingers in the hair at the back of Killian's head and then Killian surges forward, hands grabbing at Jefferson’s ass, lifting him up just enough to set him on the counter. He steps between his legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist.

Jefferson whimpers when Killian grinds down against him because it's good, and he wants to, but he can't, not here, not like this. There's no way. "Stop," he whispers, pushing Killian back. "I can't."

“Goddamn it.”

At that reaction, Jefferson is astounded. He sits up and pushes Killian hard on the shoulder, sliding off the counter. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he gasps, mouth agape.

"No, I didn’t mean it because—I got carried away. I'm sorry." Killian tries to reach out but Jefferson doesn't even want to look at him. He skirts his outstretched hand and walks out of the kitchen. He takes refuge in his bedroom and curls up on the right side of the bed. He's trying not to think about the mistake he narrowly avoided. His back is to the door but he senses Killian's presence as soon as he steps into the door way.

"Leave me alone," Jefferson snaps, angrily wiping an escaped tear. "Please go home."

"I'm sorry," Killian repeats. "I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jefferson is quiet for a moment before turning onto his back and wearily looking over at the man in the doorway. "It's not like I was discouraging you," he says softly.

Killian looks at him once and nods. "I'll go."

Jefferson watches as he turns to leave and sits up in bed. "Wait."

"What?"

"It's not like I don't want that... just not like that. Not on the kitchen counter." He hesitantly scoots over, making room for Killian on the now empty side of the bed. As Killian takes his seat, Jefferson tentatively slides his hand across the bed, palm up.

Killian stares at it only for a moment before placing his hand in Jefferson's. He brings their intertwined hands to his lips and kisses Jefferson's knuckles softly. "How 'bout like this, then? No pressure, nice soft bed. Lubricant within an arm's reach," he tempts, playful.

Jefferson thinks about it, really thinks about it, and decides that, yes, he would love to do it like this. "Okay."

***

After Jefferson's first week of work is completed, Killian takes him out. Jefferson has his doubts and concerns, but he gets dressed in the nicest clothes he owns and they head to a restaurant two towns away that requires reservations and will be absent of children, Killian assures him.

***

"That was beautiful," Jefferson says for the fifth time because it was. The food was amazing, the atmosphere perfect—intimate—and the best part is that he actually enjoyed himself for the first time in months. He wonders how much their date set Killian back, but Killian obviously doesn't care, and maybe he's just glad to see Jefferson coming out of it.

Killian slides out of his black leather jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair beside Jefferson's bed. He unbuttons his shirt, back to Jefferson for whatever ridiculous reason, and Jefferson admires the muscles in his back as he slips the black dress shirt off his shoulders. That's when he decides he wants it—this—him.

His breath is uneven and he's probably shaking when he approaches Killian from behind and loops his arms around his waist. His lips find the spot where Killian's neck meets his shoulder and he kisses there, soft and slow, and feels Killian's hand come to rest on top of his.

***

It's amazing, and Jefferson's never known that sex could be this good. Killian is an expert, surely, knows how to make Jefferson writhe and moan and gasp and curl his toes and forget all the awful things that have happened. It's sensual and beautiful and he loves the way that Killian's beard tickles his thighs and the way his calloused fingers are gentle in opening him up.

All the times before have been rushed, fueled by lust, and it's cheesy and sentimental but Jefferson thinks this is real, how it's supposed to be, and he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life like this.

He's on his back, legs bent at the knee and open as Killian rummages for a condom. They haven't discussed it, of course, it's too soon, but Jefferson is honestly thankful he doesn't have to bring it up. Sure, he'd love another baby, wants one even, but right now he can't think about that. All he can think about is the way Killian is going to make him feel for the next twenty minutes.

***

Jefferson glances up from his cup of tea when the front door opens. "You're late," he comments, eyes flickering to the clock. He tips his head back for a kiss and hums delightedly when he receives one.

"Dinner," Killian says, putting a bag on the table. "Take out from the diner."

When Jefferson reaches for the bag, Killian presses a kiss to his hair and he grins. He grins because things are better, finally, and he has dinner on the table and he worked today and everything is falling back into place. He still hurts, but it's less and less with each passing day.

***

Killian fucks into him hard, nose pressed against his neck, mouthing at his throat. Jefferson comes first, biting down into Killian's shoulder with a groan and he feels Killian's hips stuttering against his ass and that's when he knows that Killian came.

Jefferson drops his legs and his chest is heaving and he lifts a trembling hand to his mouth.

Killian sees this, freezes after he pulls out, and his eyes are wide with worry. "Are you alright?"

Jefferson just shakes his head.

"Did I hurt you?" he presses.

He shakes it again, and Killian groans. "What the hell is wrong?"

Jefferson's eyes are glassy and he feels so vulnerable, so exposed, and he lets out a shaky sigh. "I think I love you," he whispers through his fingers.

Killian's lips form a small smile. "I think I love you, too."


	12. Chapter 12

It's been months and months and the would-be nursery is weighing heavy on Jefferson's mind. He knows he wants another baby, doesn’t know when, but knows that he can’t have this empty shell of a memory around anymore. He stands in the doorway, head against the door frame, and decides that it’s time to pack it away. He pushes himself up and to the kitchen where he grabs the cordless phone and dials Killian’s number.

“Yeah?” Killian answers, and he sounds rushed and busy.

Jefferson almost regrets calling him. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into the receiver. “I know you’re working, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s alright,” Killian says, tone softening. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just—” His voice cracks and there’s a lump in his throat and his eyes sting with tears that haven’t yet fallen. He takes a deep breath to compose himself. “I was wondering if you would help me clean out the nursery. Maybe sometime tomorrow or Sunday?”

There’s a long pause on the other end and Jefferson is kicking himself for even asking because maybe Killian doesn’t want that responsibility, either.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he finally asks. “Are you ready for that?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just—it’s the last thing I’m holding onto. I’m ready to let it go, but I might need some help.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

Jefferson huffs a soft laugh because no, he didn't, but now he does. “Thank you,” he whispers, and he lets a stray tear slip down his cheek.

“Sure. Hey—I won’t get off work so late today. Maybe I’ll have time to swing by the hardware store, pick up a fresh can of paint?”

Jefferson sniffles loudly and nods to himself. “Yeah.”

”Jefferson, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I promise you—it’s what you said.”

“About the paint?”

“That you’d do anything for me,” Jefferson clarifies.

There’s distant yelling on the other end and then Killian says, “Oh. Well, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see what I can do about the paint. Stay strong, love. I’ll see you tonight.”

Jefferson smiles to himself and swipes his fingers under his eyes. “I will.”

***

Killian comes in precisely at six o’clock with a gallon of paint and the appropriate supplies in a plastic bag. He sets them on the counter and makes finding Jefferson a priority. He’s in the nursery, there’s an cardboard box on the rocking chair and Jefferson turns around with Grace's tiny bloodstained blanket in his hands. His expression is neutral and his hands are shaking but he’s coping. And he’s brave, he’s so brave for doing this.

Killian approaches him and takes his face in his hands, kissing him long and slow and when they break apart, Killian takes the blanket from Jefferson’s grip and places it in the empty box.

***

By Sunday afternoon the nursery is cleared out and painted a soft white and the furniture has been disassembled and there is a heavy sense of relief that floods Jefferson’s senses upon seeing the empty room. Killian stands beside him, stoic and supportive, with an arm around his waist.

“It looks so bland,” Killian says.

Jefferson looks over at him with a shrug. “Sometimes bland is good.”

And then Killian kisses him, and they spend the rest of the evening in bed.

***

It's the anniversary of Grace's death and Jefferson doesn't pretend not to notice. He allows himself a good cry into the pillow as Killian whispers into his shoulder and then pulls himself out of bed to get ready for work.

***

Killian brings home takeout for dinner and they eat on the couch in front of the TV and leave the mess in favor of stumbling into the bedroom blinded by passion and the need to hold each other.

They’re naked by the time they hit the bed and Jefferson flops onto his back, cock hard against his stomach as he bites his lip in anticipation and watches as Killian rustles through the nightstand drawer in search of a condom. He pulls it out triumphantly and then Jefferson bites his lip harder. He reaches out and takes the condom with trembling fingers and places it back on the nightstand, unopened.

Killian watches intently. “Are you sure?”

Jefferson nods and whispers 'yes' and it's not that he's trying to get pregnant, but hoping that if he does happen to, maybe fate will be on his side this time.

***

In the morning over coffee, Killian proposes that he sell his farm house and move in with Jefferson. Jefferson can't say 'yes' fast enough.

***

It doesn't take long for a buyer to come along and Killian is out of his house in less than six months. He doesn't have many boxes and most of them fit in the back of his truck. They only have to make two trips back and forth. They unload the boxes and pile them in the spare room. Jefferson has cleared space in his closet and in the bathroom for Killian to put his things and he's a bit too eager to get started on the unpacking process. Killian says something about making pasta for lunch and wanders into the kitchen to get it started.

***

Jefferson isn't expecting it when it happens, never started hoping in the first place, only allowed nature to take its course.

It's 5:30 AM and he's in the bathroom alone and his hands are trembling and he doesn't know whether to wake Killian or let him sleep and tell him when he gets up. He stares at the test, eyes zeroed in on the small plus sign, but the joy that should be present isn't. Part of him wants to rejoice but he keeps himself grounded because this could end just as badly as it did with Grace.

"Jefferson?" Killian calls from outside the door, voice thick from sleep. His taps his knuckle twice on the door before Jefferson opens it.

Killian gives him a halfhearted, sleepy smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Jefferson nods, which is kind of a lie. He hesitates, thinks about his options, and ultimately decides that he wants to be honest with Killian. "I'm pregnant."

"You're—? Are you sure?”

Jefferson nods and Killian smiles at him dumbly before pulling Jefferson into his arms. Jefferson huffs a small laugh into Killian's shoulder. He's still reeling in shock.

"That's amazing," Killian breathes. He turns his head and presses multiple kisses to Jefferson's cheek. "Oh my god, I can't believe it."

Jefferson's head falls onto Killian's shoulder and he feels himself relax just a little. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know, you just—I thought maybe you wouldn't want this."

"Of course I want this," Killian says, pulling back and holding Jefferson's shoulders at an arm's length. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have started fucking you without a condom six months ago.”

Jefferson laughs at that and smiles and feels himself tear up when Killian hugs him again. He presses a single kiss to Jefferson’s forehead with a whispered ‘I love you’ and Jefferson holds on tight to the plastic stick in his hands and holds on even tighter to hope.


	13. Chapter 13

Jefferson’s first appointment is on the following Tuesday and he has to leave work early to go to it. They tell him that his baby is due at the end of March and he tries to pay attention to all of the other things his doctor tells him but mostly he concentrates on not getting his hopes up. He’ll do everything like he’s supposed to and he'll take his prenatal vitamins, but he won’t get his hopes up, not this time.

***

”How’d the appointment go?” Killian asks as soon as he’s in the door.

Jefferson is curled up on the couch with Chess in his lap and he looks up from the magazine he’s reading. “They took blood, asked me questions and stuff.” He pauses. “I’m due at the end of March.”

Killian hums softly and walks over to kiss the top of Jefferson’s head on his way to the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower,” he calls over his shoulder.

***

He doesn’t like to talk about it, doesn’t want to talk about it most days, because he’s scared. He’s paralyzed with fear that this baby will have the same fate as Grace did. The weeks tick by and he starts showing a little bit earlier than he did before, but that’s understandable. He goes through the morning sickness and all of the other terrible aspects of pregnancy.

It’s the first time they’ve fucked since they found out, and maybe it’s because Jefferson is always either sick or tired or maybe it’s hesitation on both of their parts, but Jefferson is the initiator this time so Killian knows it’s okay.

Jefferson takes his time leaving a trail of kisses down Killian’s belly and he sucks his cock like a two dollar whore and when it’s time to actually fuck, Jefferson wants it hard. He presents himself on his hands and knees, ass in the air, and Killian groans at the sight alone.

It’s deep and brutal and when they finish, Jefferson’s legs feel like jello beneath him as he walks to the bathroom to clean up. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror—hair mussed, cheeks flushed red, bloated belly an inescapable sight—and he isn’t sure how he feels about anything anymore.

***

He’s 23 weeks and he has his ultrasound where he’s assured that everything is going according to plan. Killian is with him for this appointment, standing by his side and holding his hand. The technician takes various shots of the baby, wand gliding over Jefferson’s belly in that disgusting goo, and then she asks if they would like to know the sex.

Jefferson looks at Killian and the answer is no. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to get attached because if what happened to Grace happens to this baby, he won’t live to tell about it.

“I’d like to know,” Killian asserts quietly. He looks at Jefferson, blue eyes pleading.

The technician looks between the two of them and Jefferson doesn’t want to know, but he nods, because it’s not fair that Killian does.

“A boy,” the woman says.

Killian’s face lights up, and Jefferson thinks that’s worth it.

***

On the way home Killian drives and Jefferson stares out the window. “I want to be happy,” he drawls.

“What?”

He clears his throat. “I want to be happy about the baby, but I don’t want to get my hopes up like I did with Grace.”

“They said everything was going fine."

“They told me that with her, too. They never found anything wrong with her, no reason why it happened."

Killian unexpectedly pulls his truck over to the side of the highway and puts it in park. He turns to Jefferson, eyes soft, and places a hand on his cheek. “I get that you’re nervous. Hell, you’d be crazy not to be—but you can’t let it hold you back, y’know? Sometimes you’ve got to let yourself feel things in the moment even if they’re destined to end badly.” His hand leaves Jefferson’s cheek and reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I love you. I get that this is difficult, but don’t let the possibility of what might fuck up ruin what we’ve got right now—which is a healthy baby boy and a shitload of hope.”

Jefferson tears up at that because he honestly didn’t know that Killian has it in him to be that sentimental, emotional, or whatever the hell that is. “You’re right,” he nods, wiping his eyes. “You’re right.”


	14. Chapter 14

He’s almost eight months pregnant and the room that’s to be a nursery when, if, they bring this baby home is still empty. He insists on leaving it that way, at least until the baby is born, if the baby is born, and Killian doesn’t argue about it.

It’s still cold and snowing outside and it’s difficult to move, but somehow Jefferson manages to be content to sit on the couch with the cat when he’s not forced to go to work. In all honesty, he’s always too tired for much else. Killian tries to wait on him when he’s home, dote even, but Jefferson shoos him away and tells him that he can take care of himself.

***

The following weeks are uneventful and aside from work and doctors visits every week, he literally doesn’t have the energy for anything else. His scheduled surgery date is approaching and it still doesn’t feel real. None of it does.

***

He’s woken in the early morning by his alarm clock and even as he gets his hospital bag and walks through the snow out to Killian’s truck, some part of him is still in denial. Even as they’re in the pre-op room and nurses are scuttling around him, he still doesn’t want to believe it’s actually happening.

***

Killian is with him talking about things that don’t matter to him right now, and he’s sort of in a fog. He’s only vaguely aware of what's going on around him during the surgery. His view is blocked by a blue tarp from the neck down and his hair is in an ugly white cover that resembles a shower cap and Killian is dressed much the same way. He is standing by Jefferson's head holding his hand.

Jefferson feels hot tears sting his eyes and he allows them to fall freely. It doesn't take long for them to cut the baby out and it’s déjà vu all over again except this time the baby they cut out of him is squirming with life.

Killian leaves him to watch the nurses weigh their son and when he returns to Jefferson’s side, he’s got a yellow bundle in his arms and there are tear tracks on his face because this is how it’s supposed to be.

Jefferson reaches a shaky hand out to his baby and his fingers graze the bright pink skin of his son’s forehead. He realizes now that he’s crying, too, and watches as Killian counts all ten fingers and all ten toes.

Much later when Jefferson is settled back in his regular room, the nurse brings the baby for them to hold and as long as Jefferson looks down into that tiny face, he can't fathom how far they've come.

Killian is in a chair beside his bed, a single finger running across his son's cheek, and he looks to Jefferson. "We haven't chosen a name." He doesn't have to say that it's because Jefferson was scared this baby would die too, because he caught on to that a long time ago.

Jefferson looks over at him with tired eyes. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Gabriel," Killian answers without hesitation. "It was my grandfather's name. He was strong, smart. Lived to be eighty five."

In all honesty, Jefferson has no family ties. A name is a name, but Gabriel seems to suit his son just fine.

***

Three days later they're leaving the hospital and the carrier is secured in the back seat of Jefferson's car. He sits in the back with him as Killian drives, and it still seems so surreal. He won't be surprised if he wakes up to find out this is only a dream, but for now he watches out the window as the snow from the last snowfall melts away. It will be replaced in the coming days, but for now, there are signs of warmer times coming.

Killian helps Jefferson into the house with his hospital bag and the diaper bag and he's biting back a smile for reasons Jefferson can't figure out—until he steps into the room with the crib. When they left for the hospital, the room had white walls and the lone crib set up in the far corner. Some of Killian's boxes were left in the opposite corner from when he moved in, along with other odds and ends that didn't seem to fit anywhere else in the house. But now—now the room is cleared out and the walls have been painted a soft blue and all of the furniture that was bought for Grace is reassembled and Jefferson turns to Killian with teary eyes.

"I got some of the guys from work to help when you were in the hospital," Killian says softly, averting his gaze. "I hope it's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jefferson whispers. He leans over to kiss Killian softly on the mouth and sighs gently against his lips. "We're really doing this, huh?"

Killian hums thoughtfully. "Too late to back out now."

Jefferson laughs and kisses him again and then takes the baby carrier into his bedroom where the empty bassinet is waiting next to their bed.


	15. Chapter 15

The three months after Gabriel is born fly by and the air outside is warm and the sun is shining once again with the early summer. During the day Jefferson works, and in the evenings he comes home and sits on the front porch with a glass of tea and his baby boy in his lap. Killian will pull into the driveway and get out of his truck and smile at both of them like it's the best thing in the world, and for Jefferson it is.

***

It's long past dinner time and by some miracle Jefferson is still awake. He and Killian are on the couch and the TV is on but neither of them are watching it. They're consumed by each other, mouths moving against one another like it's their first time, and Jefferson maneuvers so that he's straddling Killian's lap. Killian's hands have just slipped beneath the elastic waist of Jefferson's pajama pants when there's a soft cry over the baby monitor and Jefferson groans in frustration.

"Hey," Killian whispers, nudging his jaw. "I'll go check on him. Wait for me in the bedroom."

So Jefferson does, and he strips himself of clothes and fingers himself open and he looks so obscene when Killian walks in. His legs are sprawled, bent at the knee, open and waiting to be fucked for the first time since before their baby was born.

Flustered, Killian runs a hand through his hair at the sight. "Well, fuck."

And both of them are laughing, and then Killian climbs onto the bed and they manage to last almost twenty minutes before exhaustion creeps in and they're left panting in sync.

***

As Fall approaches, Gabriel grows into a healthy, giggling, babbling baby, and the nights are growing longer and the temperatures are getting colder. It will be winter again soon, and Jefferson is dreading the days when he can no longer sit outside with his baby boy. Killian mentions that Jefferson seems sad lately, asks if everything's okay, and when Jefferson tells him why, he laughs. And Jefferson laughs, too, because it sounds so stupid and trivial. That's when Killian asks Jefferson to marry him.

Jefferson says yes.

***

They decide to get married at the courthouse with a few witnesses. They tell themselves that it's okay with them, but in all honesty they don't have the money for anything else. It's okay, though, because they have their baby boy and they have each other and for now, that's enough.


	16. Chapter 16

It's spring again and the flowers are blooming and Gabriel has just turned thirteen months old. It's unexpected when it happens again and Jefferson thinks they'll figure out how it happens sooner or later, but for now he can't stop himself from screaming, "Holy shit!"

And Killian barges into the bathroom with Gabriel on his hip and twice-chewed carrots on his shirt. "What happened?"

And Jefferson shows him the positive pregnancy test and Killian has to hand the baby over to because he says he's going to be sick. Gabriel giggles at Killian and Jefferson watches as he sits on the edge of the bathtub with his head between his knees.

"Oh my god," Killian breathes. "Again?"

Jefferson chuckles at him, cheeks glowing pink with the warm breeze blowing in through the open windows.

Killian manages to collect his nerves and stands up to kiss Jefferson on the mouth. "We're not going to have any money left over after all is said and done," he says.

And that's when Jefferson says they'll be poor in money, but rich in love, and Killian laughs until his stomach hurts.


	17. Chapter 17

If someone had told Jefferson that things were going to turn out the way they have all those months ago when Grace died, he wouldn't have believed them. He wouldn't believe that he'd be married to the man he once couldn't stand, never thought he'd have toddling 21-month old and a beautiful newborn boy they've named Timothy. Part of him is thankful that their second child isn't a girl. He thinks that he's had two sons for a reason: because Grace will always have a special place in his heart—always—and he doesn't want to replace her. And he doesn't know what the future holds, but for now he's okay with that. 


End file.
